i'm waiting to paint!

I long to paint. To pick brushes of different kinds, dip them in various shades of colour, and to spread them in strokes across a sheet of paper.

I miss it. The audacious smell of kerosene and turpentine that forbids anyone to gain entry into my room. The splay of tubes of paints, newspapers, heavy objects that i use to hold my sheets in place, a radio who music accompanies those gentle strokes of a brush. Mother grumbling for the nth time that i've dirtied the floor, and my clothes.

Invariably , somehow, i tend to paint my floor and my clothes. There was this white pyjamas which had yellows, reds, greens on it. It always happened that i felt compelled to paint on that particular day when i wore this pair of pyjamas.

At times, the process goes on till late night, until i get sickened by the smells of the various chemicals around me. I continue with it in the following morning right after i brush my teeth, like my life depends on it. Stepping around the room requires utmost caution, for God only knows where i've thrown what!

Drying it requires time. I refuse it to leave my sight. It shifts it's position during different times of the day. When the maid, comes in to mop the floor, it lies o the bed. When i plan to sprawl on the bed, it goes onto the floor. And when finally warns me, it enters a room upstairs. It lies at peace there, for a week or so. With regular checks to estimate the amount of paint that sticks to the finger to indicate it's phase of drying.

I'm waiting to get back to it. I know i will, after i'm done with my exams.

smells that cool down a hot day

Water condensed on the outer surface of the glass tumbler. It contained hot tea. It was too hot to drink, she decided. Giving more time for it to attain that amount of hotness. So that it was just right for her to drink. And obtain pleasure from it.

Sometimes, she forgot that a cup of the steaming beverage was placed before. After being reminded repeatedly, she drank lukewarm tea. The individual tastes of sweetness of sugar and the sourness of tea leaves could be felt. These flavours were overcome by the high temperature of freshly-brewed tea.

Deciding that the tea was just about right for her to sip, she lifted the cup. Drink, she did, taking in small amounts each time. She swirled the quantity of tea within the limits of closed lips. The sweetness hung in her breath after she finished her quota of tea. She licked her lips, trying to get the syruppy sweetness from her wet lips. In vain.

Stepping into the kitchen, she filled a tumbler of water. The first gulp of water down her throat carried the sourness of tea along with the the sweetness of sugar. Making sure that the lips were free from tiny crystals of sugar that had accumulated, she wiped them with satisfaction.

She carried the jug of water into the space termed as her room.

Suddenly, drinking water was such a nice thing to do. The fluid(it would be warm most times) felt nice, wetting a parched throat. As she poured it down her throat, she spilled some of it on her shirt. Despite, the mark created by those drops of water, she felt relieved. The touch of coolness against the hot flesh, was welcome.

The fan in the room vigorously. As if something dangerous was chasing it. The stale air circulated in the room, till the windows were thrown wide open. The air that rushed in, brought in fragrance of leaves, that of water that plunged down two stories from a flooded water tank, and the loose sand, which got drenched in the process.

The earthy smell, that which is possessed by the heavenly to clear a headache, to calm tensed nerves, constricted muscles. To banish all humidity into nothingness.

my ways

I've changed to some extent, say those people who've seen from a long time.

Perhaps, i agree with this, to some extent.

Doing things myself, taking responsibilities; i've dreamed about it when i was in my graduate studies. I've always wanted to do things my way. All along, i thought that my way is different from others' ways. Only to realize that it is shared by those known and unknown to me!

Folks at home say, i've lost the naughtiness in me. And have grown more 'serious' in the past few months. People ask me why, waiting to hear an answer from me.

What do i say?! Or rather, what am i expected to say?

Yes, dear, you are true.

Perhaps, i'm able to notice a few differences in myself, but not all. I don't, really, know how to reply to this. Frankly speaking, i'm least bothered. I don't have to wonder about it, when people, close to me, show the same affection and love.

At the same time, i guess, i'm fine by it. By doing things, by myself, as i said before, i'm learning.
Dare i say this, i'm enjoying the learning. Though it was initially accompanied by tears and grumbling.

he owns that

From the past few days, i've missed blogging. I usually long for it, but, the recent past has seen me really hoping for it.

DLF IPL; this is something that i really don't understand. Call me a muddle-head if you want. As far as i know, we have about eight teams warring(the promos indicated this, didn't they) against each other. There is this tune which has someone talking about war and how bloody the fight will be. Moreover, we have 'Owners' of each team. Vijay Mallya is the owner of the Bengaluru Challengers, Shah Rukh Khan, the sole proprietor of the Kolkotha team. A bid was held in order to draw in maximum amount of money from the rich and wealthy. It's stupid. Somebody 'owned ' by another person. It's ridiculous, to say the least.

Millions of money spent for a cricket tournament. Like we have nothing else to do. Notes of money down the drain. Couldn't those guys come up with something innovative. Something to improve conditions in the country.

I know i shouldn't be complaining. Afterall it's their money(hard-earned or so), they get to spend(=squander) it in ways they fancy. But, it pinches me when mother lessens the usage of edible oil at home, when inflation is at an all time high. When farmers take the extreme step under drought conditions.

At another end, money is thrown into the air.

Who is to be damned?